Getting Unstuck Together
by kjewls
Summary: Mariana is in the midst of a professional crisis of confidence, and a surprise late-night chat with Evan may be precisely what she needs to help her get unstuck . . . or at least finally find out the true story about what happened with Amanda! This is a one-shot that may grow, if I'm feeling inspired. I find the dynamic between these two fascinating!
1. Chapter 1

Mariana Adams Foster pushes her black rolling chair back from her computer, foists her arms skyward and stretches langourously in the now darkened offices of Speckulate. She lets out a small sigh, as her muscles groan in protest against their many hours spent immobile and unhealthily hunched in front of a glowing screen.

According to the digital read on Mariana's phone, the time is now 10:25 p.m. Numerous texts and alerts fill the bottom portion of the device. It's her roommates from the Coterie . . . documenting a night out at the bars . . . wondering whether she's coming or not?_ Not. _She thinks to herself ruefully. The last vestiges of Mariana's dutifully applied mascara and Scarlet Venom lipstick disappeared from her face hours ago, as has any ability she typically possessed to be charming or witty over frosted Margarita glasses and loud music.

Mariana's ability to be hungry, however, is apparently still alive and well. A sideways glance at a barely eaten (and now likely bacteria ridden) plastic container of Light N Fit Blueberry Yogurt balanced precariously on the corner of her desk, reminds the young programmer that it has been about 14 hours since her last solid meal. She vaguely remembers an impromptu party in her office a few days ago to celebrate the launch of some time-management app, which prompted the delivery of no less than ten pies of pizza with varying toppings, and wonders if she might find a leftover slice or two in the lunchroom freezer.

And so, Mariana finds herself situated in front of said freezer, elbow deep in freezer burned Lean Cuisines and forgotten slices of birthday cake, when she is startled by a masculine voice in her ear. "I've already looked. Only the Hawaiian slices are left. I hate the Hawaiian slices."

Startled, Mariana abruptly withdraws her arm from the freezer, resulting in a cavalcade of frozen food tumbling toward her feet. Flustered, Mariana bends down quickly to clean up her mess, as Evan Speck, CEO and founder of Speckulate, kneels before her to do the same. "Evan, I'm so sorry," Mariana explains abruptly, as she and Evan both reach for the same plastic bag containing a single, slightly green around the edges, chocolate chip bagel. "I didn't know that anyone else was here and I . . ."

"You got hungry for bad free food that no one else wanted," Evan offers with a wry smile.

"Yes," admits, Mariana, suddenly feeling a bit shy and self-conscious, for reasons she can't quite pinpoint.

"You are here late," Evan notes, and it seems like a declarative statement rather than a question.

"Says the person who is also here late," the young programmer replies emboldened a bit by her boss' matter-of-fact tone.

"This actually isn't late for me. I normally leave the office around 11:02 p.m., which means I still have another 46 minutes and 22 seconds, before I'm officially here late," the CEO responds.

"Really? You have that much work to do?" Mariana asks, making a face, as she sniffs someone's leftover container of Moo Shoo Pork that probably should have been discarded a month ago. "Don't you have like hundreds of staff members at your beck and call to cater to your every need and desire?"

"It's not the work," Evan qualifies. "In fact, I have less actual work to do lately than I'd like. Everyone's always jumping up to do things to me that I used to do for myself before Speckulate became . . . well, what it is now. And that's good, I guess. But now, when I come home, I just have all this extra energy that I don't know what to do with. My mind races. I pace my apartment, straighten and reorder things over and over again. I have . . . panic attacks, bad ones."

"Here, that doesn't happen," Evan continues. "I feel more peaceful, like I'm right where I am supposed to be. So, I've started to stay here until I tire myself out, so I can go home and fall right to sleep. And it worked. No more panic attacks. I'm cured."

"So, you have social anxiety, but you also can't be alone. Sounds kind of lonely," Mariana muses, as she reaches for a pre-packaged bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. (It is 10:27 p.m. on a Tuesday night, and she was still at the office, she thinks to herself. Healthy choices be damned!)

Evan considers this for a moment, as he munches thoughtfully on a bag of pre-packaged pretzel sticks. "You are the second woman in this office to call me lonely," he admits.

"Because the first was . . ._ Amanda_?" Mariana responds probingly.

Evan frowns as he leans back against the lunchroom counter. "You know about Amanda . . ."

"Sort of?" Mariana responds sheepishly. "I know you . . . liked her?"

Evan begins staring into his half-empty bag of pretzels. "I don't believe there is a full serving size in here. The packagers must have weighted the bag down with air. I'm going to contact the company first thing tomorrow morning. It's false advertising, at the very least."

Mariana doesn't respond to this diversion. She simply waits quietly for Evan to return to the matter at hand.

"Amanda was an exceptionally talented programmer. There were no barriers for her. If she had an idea in her head, she could duplicate it on screen, perfectly, without question. I mean I could do that too, of course. But Amanda's mind worked differently. She was artistic, creative. She had the ability to see beyond the code, in a way that I couldn't. Amanda could really . . . reach people through her programs. She was a lot like you in that way, I think."

And there it was . . . the link between Mariana and this mysterious Amanda that everyone had warned her about. Could it be true? Could Evan's so-called "professional" interest in her be because he saw her as a bizarre romantic surrogate for the Hot Programmer that Got Away?

The thought made Mariana uneasy, more than anything because, right now, she wasn't feeling like an exceptionally talented programmer, who could magically translate her thoughts into workable code. She was completely stuck. In fact, it was this feeling of being stuck that was causing Mariana to spend her night eating potato chips in an empty office with her boss, instead of out partying with her friends. And with a deadline looming to present a Beta Test for her app, being stuck didn't just make Mariana feel frustrated, it made her feel like a fraud.

"So, what happened, between you and Amanda? Why did she leave Speckulate?" Mariana inquires, her voice sounding more forceful than she had initially planned. (Perhaps, Evan wasn't the only one looking for a diversion from addressing things he wasn't ready to face, she thought to herself.)

"Nobody has ever had the courage to ask me that before," Evan admits, looking at Mariana directly in the eye, in a way he had pointedly avoided doing since they had both entered the lunch room.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped. I mean, I shouldn't have . . . you don't have to . . ." Mariana began to stammer, abruptly breaking eye contact with her boss.

"It's OK. I want to tell you," Evan interrupts. "I know there are a lot of rumors around the office about what happened, and I'd like you to know the truth."

"Thank you," Mariana responds solemnly, as she settles in to a chair at one of the tables in the lunch room.

"Amanda came to me with an app idea that showed a lot of promise. I gave her a solid team to work with, but she felt that none of them shared her vision, and she said that she'd prefer to work on it with me directly," Evan begins.

"That was ballsy of her," Mariana muses out loud.

"Yes, I guess it was," responds Evan with a small smile. "I was glad to do it. Like I said, I don't get the chance to get in on the ground floor on these type of things as much as I'd like anymore. We spent a lot of late nights together, hashing things out, ironing out code, perfecting the app. We ate a lot of bad frozen pizza."

"Uh oh . . . I think I know where this is going," Mariana mutters under her breath.

"You do? Because I didn't," Evan admits. "When Amanda kissed me one night at the office, I was surprised. I am not all that great at reading social cues, I'm afraid. And I just assumed maybe that was her way of showing friendship, like a pat on the back, or a handshake?"

"Did you kiss her back?" Mariana inquires.

"I think at the time, I just ignored it, and went right back to work. And things were fine after that . . . I thought. But then the next night, Amanda told me that she felt that we had a romantic connection, and wanted to take things to the next level. She said that knew I was technically her superior, but she felt that we could make things work on a professional level, if I felt the same way that she did."

"But you didn't feel the same way . . ." Mariana posits ruefully, her heart suddenly breaking for this stranger, in a painfully familiar way.

(After all, if there was anyone who understood the unique sting of putting your heart out there for a boy you cared deeply about, only to learn that those feelings weren't reciprocated, it was Mariana Adams Foster.)

"I told Amanda the truth, that I cared deeply about her on a personal and professional level, but that I am just not capable of exhibiting the kind of feelings most of the world describes as romantic love. She didn't take it well."

"So, you fired her?" Mariana asks icily, wondering if the terrible rumors about Evan were right after all.

"On the contrary, I offered her a promotion and a raise. But she quit. Took her app with her. I hear her new company is doing quite well, may even go public next year," Evan concludes nonchalantly.

Mariana suddenly remembers Evan's warning to her about her activism app idea being the property of Speckulate, if she ever decided to leave the company. "So that's why you changed your employment contracts, so that couldn't happen again," the programmer surmised.

Evan nodded sternly. "The legal department wanted me to sue Amanda. They said I had a pretty good case, considering how closely we both worked on the code for the app, and how it was created using software and equipment that was owned by Speckulate. But I didn't want to cause Amanda any more pain than I already had, so I insisted they let it go."

"It was a loss, both for Speckulate and for me, professionally. But I knew I'd always have more ideas, and that Speckulate would continue to do just fine. I guess because of my reaction, everyone assumed I was in love with Amanda. And maybe I let people keep believing that, because it sounds better than the truth: that the CEO of Speckulate is an emotionless robot, who couldn't handle being kissed by a smart beautiful and successful woman."

"I don't think you are an emotionless robot," Mariana responds truthfully. "You inspire me every day, and have helped me in countless ways since I've started working here. If you were an emotionless robot, I don't think I'd be here this late at night trying to make this app something worthy of your company."

Evan left lip quirks up in something resembling a smile at this. "So why are you stuck, Mariana? What is it about your code that isn't working?" He inquires, as the two head out of the kitchen.

"How did you know I was stuck?" Mariana asks incredulously.

"Because, I've been listening to you curse at your computer screen for the past three hours," Evan responds blithely.

Mariana lets out a surprised snort at this. "Oops, sorry! I didn't realize I was being that loud . . . or, really that anyone else was here to hear me be that loud," she admits apologetically.

"No apologies needed. This office could use a bit of loud this late at night," Evan responds. "So, show me the code. Let me see where you are stuck. Maybe I could help unstick you."

"Really? Now? But it's almost 11:02 . . .you'll be home late," Mariana worries, biting her lower lip.

Evan shrugs. "I'll adjust," he responds.

Mariana pauses and tilts her head to the side, as she regards Evan, taking in all the new information she has recently learned about him, and assimilating it into the picture she has been forming in her mind of her enigmatic boss. "You know," she offers thoughtfully. "I think you were wrong when you said that to Amanda . . . about you not being capable of romantic love. You have a really good heart, Evan Speck, and are probably capable of pretty much anything. And I think that love may find you yet."

And with that, Mariana leads Evan Speck into her cubicle, and the pair begin to work . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Mariana Adams Foster is having one of those dreams where you absolutely know that you are dreaming but are enjoying what is happening in your dream way too much to care.

It's kind of like a daydream, but more vivid, because you are sleeping. Or maybe it's more like a lucid dream, but one in which you are sleeping deeply enough that you don't realize that you are the one pulling the strings. And that makes the good things that are happening to you feel that much more well-deserved and awesome.

In the dream, Mariana is on stage at the Appy Awards in London. She has just been given the award for Best Lifestyle App for her activism application. Even though the app is technically the property of Speckulate, her name is still forever tied to it, as the main creator and inspiration for the app. As a result, she has been allowed to accept the award for the app on Speckulate's behalf.

In the dream, Mariana is wearing a gorgeous dress that accentuates her curves perfectly and minimizes her short stature (as do her Louboutin heels, which oddly enough, don't hurt at all, but somehow still manage to add four inches to her five-foot-one petite frame). The dress is silver and looks like almost exact replica of the one Lady Gaga recently wore at the Grammys.

As Mariana reaches to the stage to accept her award, she looks out at the crowd and instantly sees that everyone she wants to be there with her for this monumental moment has somehow, miraculously paid the ridiculously expensive airfare and secured seats, at the event. There in the distance, she spies: her moms, her fraternal twin, Jesus, her adoptive siblings, Jude, Callie, and Brandon, her friends and roommates from the Coterie (who are hooting and "Woo-hoo"ing obnoxiously loudly and generally making a spectacle of themselves), her sort-of boyfriend Raj, her mysterious boss Evan (who is staring at her in an enigmatically expressionless way, as per usual), her female colleagues from the Byte Club (because "Girl Power" obviously) and her jerky colleagues Alex and Sam, who, truth be told, are looking more sour grapes than truly happy about her successes, which only makes the moment that much more spectacular!

"Thank you so much, London!" Mariana says into the microphone, which has been perfectly positioned for her petite stature. "Everyone in this room . . . NO, everyone in this WORLD, has the unique knowledge to make Earth a better, kinder, more tolerant, more productive, and more environmentally friendly place to live, but few of us had the resources to make our dreams into reality . . . until now. I am so honored and humbled to share with you, on behalf of Evan Speck and Speckulate, this life changing platform. And I am so grateful, to my moms, my siblings, my colleagues, and my dear friends, for always supporting me, and helping me to turn my wild dreams and ideas, into a reality!"

It is at this point that a hole opens up in the ceiling of the banquet hall where the awards are taking place, and large golf-ball sized chunks of hail rain themselves on the head of Mariana Adams Foster. "Oh crap," mutters Mariana out loud.

She knows full well that when illogical, unexplainable, events find their way into dreams, it is nearly time to awaken. And Mariana doesn't want to wake up! Not when she was having such an amazing time!

Mariana blinks her eyes rapidly, as a ball of "hail" knocks her square between her eyes. It is in that moment that she realizes that what her dream recorded as hail was actually Nerf pellets, shot at her with sociopathic glee by her jerkface, Speckulate colleague, Alex with a toy gun. The time is now 9:15 a.m. and Mariana has just learned that she has fallen asleep at the office, having pulled an all-nighter working on her activism app, with her boss, Evan Speck, who is now, conveniently, nowhere to be found.

"Ha!" Shouts Alex loudly, motioning toward a sleepy Mariana. "Exactly fifteen Nerf Ball pellets woke up our Sleeping Beauty. Pay up, Sam. I accept , Zelle, and any other form of electronic funds transfer, in addition to the, always reliable, cold-hard cash."

"That's bull and you know it," Sam retorts. "Yes, you shot fifteen Nerf gun pellets, but only ten actually hit the target. The other five you shot so widely out of range that they couldn't possibly hit her. And you did that, because you knew that I was correct, that it would only take ten pellets to wake her up! As such, I demand a rematch."

As Mariana slowly and reluctantly awakens, she notices two things. One is a soft (possibly Down) feather pillow that has been caringly placed beneath her head at some point during the night. The other item she notices is a ridiculously comfortable, thick knit, orange blanket that had been draped over her shoulders while she slept. Truth be told, the notion that Alex or Sam would have taken such pains to make Mariana comfortable in her vulnerable position of passing out at the office grosses her out. Plus, her new boyfriend Raj has been out this past week on vacation, in order to attend a family wedding taking place across the globe. Therefore, Mariana can only assume that the deft and sensitive care taken to her body while she slept was the doing of none other than her cryptic and admittedly odd, but strangely charming, boss Evan Speck.

"I know the excitement of having woman voluntarily sleeping next to you is something you two cretins have likely never experienced before, and probably won't ever again. But still, don't you have anything better to do? Like. . . um . . . I don't know. Work or something?" Mariana asks her nemeses with a brittle smile on her face.

"Um, first of all I sleep with plenty of women all the time, OK!" Alex insists petulantly.

"Me too," parrots Sam, even less convincingly.

"Second of all, what's with the blanket and hotel pillow? Be honest, Mariana, are you secretly homeless? Do you live here?" Alex asks in a voice laced with faux concern.

"You got me, Alex. I'm homeless, and you are a virgin. We've all got secrets to confess apparently," Mariana responds, as she stalks out of the office with a pillow under her armpit and an orange blanket dragging behind her like a cape.

"Heh, she called you a virgin," Sam snickers, as Mariana slams the door behind her.

Mariana tries her best to ignore the prying eyes who follow her as she stalks toward the corner office with the words, Evan Speck, CEO, printed on the doorframe, and knocks aggressively until it opens.

"Oh, good, you brought back my bedding. I was just about to collect it, so that it could be laundered," Evan offers with an expressionless nod, as he extracts first the pillow, than the blanket from Mariana, his deft fingers nonchalantly tracing a smooth line against her neck as he collects the latter, sending a not entirely unwelcome warm feeling of warmth down her spine.

"So, you and I were working together last night. I, apparently, fell asleep. And then you left me sleeping and drooling alone in the office, so that I could found in the morning by my asshole colleagues," Mariana states through gritted teeth.

Evan regards Mariana silently with his head cocked in seeming curiosity for a maddening few seconds before speaking, "You just made an obvious statement to me, generating no new information. And you did so in an elevated tone of voice. I've been told that obvious statements delivered in this fashion indicate that the speaker of them is angry. Are you angry, Mariana? Did I not follow proper protocol, by providing you with bedding, so that the sleep you required would be more productive and comfortable?"

Mariana softens at this, and feels a blush rise in her neck and cheeks, as Evan continues to regard her with an intensity she can't quite explain. "No," she mumbles softly. "Giving me the blanket and pillow was sweet."

"Sweet," Evan repeats with a small smile. "I've never been described that way before," He admits. "Most people tend to find me a bit cold. So, thank you for the compliment."

"Thank YOU," Mariana responds, clearly confused, as she had sincerely thought she had come to this office to ream out her boss.

"And yet you still seem angry at me," Evan probes. "Tell me why."

"My colleagues shot nerf balls at me, when they found me sleeping in the office with your blanket around me. They called me homeless. It was embarrassing," Mariana insists seething.

"Are you homeless, Mariana?" Evan inquires solemnly, as he beckons her into his office, causing her to realize that the two have been conversing in the doorframe this entire time in clear view of her fellow employees.

"NO!" Mariana insists frustratedly.

"So, you have nothing to be embarrassed about then," Evan replies matter-of-factly. "You can be annoyed by the immaturity of your colleagues, perhaps, but you should not be embarrassed."

Mariana considers this for a moment, and reluctantly admits that Evan, despite his clear lack of understanding of basic social cues, is correct. She is surprised to find the anger that propelled her so energetically toward her boss' office to be leaving her body and being replaced by a sense of calm and well-rested-ness.

"What would you consider to be proper protocol for me in the situation you just described?" Evan offers, interrupting Mariana's thoughts.

"You could have woken me up, so I could go home, and sleep in my own bed, like you apparently did last night?" Mariana insists, lacking the conviction and self-righteousness she felt earlier.

"I disagree. That would have been improper protocol," Evan responds with a shake of his head. "Medical studies show that you should never wake a sleepwalker. It could be incredibly damaging to their health and well-being."

"I was sleepwalking?!" Mariana sputters, finding herself embarrassed again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

"Not exactly walking, but talking in your sleep, and sort of moving around a bit, so it was sleep-walk adjacent," Evan responds, as he walks back to his desk and settles calmly in his chair, leaving Mariana's recently slept in pillow and blanket on the corner of his desk.

"What did I say in my sleep?" Mariana asked nervously.

"Nothing I would ever reveal," replies Evan with a smile. "You worry too much about what others think of you, Mariana. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to complete."

"Sorry, I'll leave you to it,' Mariana hesitantly exits the office of the CEO of Speckulate only to find herself face-to-face with Raj, who responds by kissing her aggressively on the lips right in front of her boss, the latter of whom regards the pair with seemingly practiced nonchalance, before returning to his paper work.

"Raj! What the heck are you doing? People can see us! Also, I haven't brushed my teeth yet, and have killer morning breath," she insists, inclining her head toward Evan's desk, as she pulls her new boyfriend around the corner toward a more private location.

"I missed you," replies Raj with a shrug. "Besides, we have nothing to hide, we are equals at this office, after all. And I heard you slept at the office last night . . . with him," he continues, glaring in the direction of Evan's office. Alex and Sam were plastering out photos of you around the office with the label 'Hobo Mariana' on them. I made them take them down."

"How gallant of you," Mariana replies with an eyeroll. "Are you sure that's all this PDA was, that you missed me while you were on vacation?"

"Of course," Raj replies with a grin that belies the look of clear discomfort in his eyes. "Why else would I want to kiss my gorgeous girlfriend, after being away from her for a whole week?"

Mariana looks down at her feet, not quite able to meet Raj's eyes. "Well . . . it kind of seemed like an alpha dog sort of thing, like you were marking your territory . . . like you were . . . peeing on me . . . as a message . . . to Evan . . . OUR BOSS."

Now, it is Raj's turn not to be able to meet Mariana's eyes. "I don't trust him, Mariana . . . the way he looks at you . . . not to mention those rumors about what happened between him and Amanda."

"He told me the truth about, Amanda, Raj! It wasn't his fault," Mariana insists.

"And you believed him?!" Raj responds incredulously.

"He's not manipulative," Mariana replies. "In fact, he seems weirdly incapable of lying altogether, almost like a child. He's harmless, Raj. And he is not interested in me as anything more than a colleague, I swear."

"Well, excuse me, if I find that hard to believe, you being so incredibly hot and all," Raj responds, as he seductively kisses the sensitive spot on Mariana's neck that always makes her moan.

"Raaaaj . . . stop, I slept here. I need to get cleaned up," Mariana protests, but not very convincingly.

"Not too much, please. I like you dirty," Raj whispers in her ear, as the pair head in opposite directions, him toward the office suite, and her toward the bathroom.

At around lunch time, Mariana runs into Evan in the cafeteria, while she's extracting a strawberry yogurt from the snack bar. "Evan," she offers awkwardly. "I'm sorry about what you saw between Raj and me. That was unprofessional of us both. I promise it won't happen again in your presence."

"You owe me no apology," Evan responds stoically. "I'm your boss, not your boyfriend."

"Oh . . . I know . . . I just . . . OK . . . um, thank you . . . for understanding . . . I guess," Mariana fumbles out a reply, as she attempts to make a speedy exit from the situation.

"I did have to report it to HR though," Evan adds, almost as an afterthought.

"YOU WHAT?!" Mariana stops in her tracks, having not even considered this as having been a possibility.

"Don't worry," Evan insists. "You won't get in trouble. Raj isn't your superior, nor are you his. It's just proper protocol to report these sorts of things. HR will likely just have you sign some paperwork to disclaim liability of Speckulate if your relationship ends unpleasantly, and you'll be on your way."

"Oh . . ." Mariana responds with hesitant relief. "Well, I guess that's OK . . ."

"They will also likely move Raj to a different coding team," Evan posits.

_Crap! _Mariana thinks to herself. She can't even imagine how Raj is going to react to this! If he was suspicious of Evan's motives before, there's no telling what he will think about them now.

"Move me instead," Mariana offers abruptly. "Raj was part of the team first. It's only fair."

Evan seems to consider this for a moment, before firmly shaking his head. "No, moving you would be a benefit to Alex and Sam that they don't deserve."

Mariana gawks at this, clearly offended. "Why? Because I'm so awful to work with?" She argues.

"Because you are so much smarter than them both. They know it. And it kills them," Evan corrects, as he selects a banana from the fruit section of the cafeteria. "It's why they pick on you so much."

Mariana can't help but grin cheekily at this. "You think I'm smarter than Alex and Sam?" She inquires happily.

"From the work I saw you do last night, Mariana, I think you are probably smarter than everybody here . well . . except, me, of course," Evan responds, as he takes a bite of his banana and begins the trek back toward his office.

"How very humble of you!" Mariana calls after him, causing Evan to stop in his tracks.

"You are referring to me as humble, and yet what I said about my being smarter than everyone in this office was . . ." Evan begins, as he puzzles through this recent interaction in his brain. "Ahhh . . . that was sarcasm there, wasn't it, Mariana?"

"Yes, it was, Mr. Speck," Mariana replies with a wink.

"Hmmm . . . then, perhaps, I still have some things I can learn from you, after all, Mariana Adams Foster," he calls over his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Because she takes very seriously her role of "the-enviably-cool-and-super-understanding-kind-of-girlfriend-who-is-nonjudgementally-generous-with-both-her-time-and-emotional-support," Mariana willingly sacrifices precious hours of her own, much-needed, beauty sleep, in order to arrive early to work (more than two hours early, to be exact), to remove any and all evidence of Raj's presence from his soon-to-be-former (and _her_ current) coding-team's shared office space.

Apparently, according to new Speckulate policy, this MUST be done, so that Raj can be successfully integrated into a NEW programming team . . .. a team that does not include someone with whom he is currently, somewhat publicly, sexually active, i.e. Mariana.

If all goes well, this removal and subsequent "integration into another team" WILL be completed prior to Raj's and Mariana's fellow "teammates'" Alex's and Sam's, 9:40ish a.m. office arrival.

Otherwise, that would be SUPER AWKWARD!

Now, Mariana, to her credit, totally understands that she is portraying herself as the innocent martyr in this narrative, despite the fact that there are, and will always be, two sides to every story.

First, in Mariana's defense, it was decidedly Raj who kissed HER in front of her boss, not the other way around. Not to mention the fact that Raj obviously did this to prove a point to someone he deemed to be a potential romantic adversary to Mariana's affections, namely their boss, Evan. This means that Raj likely did not make out with Mariana, as he had previously stated, merely for reasons genuinely romantic and spontaneous.

And yet, despite all this, if she's being entirely honest with herself, Mariana feels, just the slightest bit, responsible for Raj's being transferred from Alex's team. This admitted guilt is irrefutably based on (1) certain arguably flirty revelations derived from her conversation with Evan the day before, and (2) the inevitable fact that it generally takes two adults to inappropriately engage in an admittedly erotically intense makeout session in the workplace.

That's just science, pure and simple.

"Is this everything?" Mariana inquires, peering dutifully into the half-filled moving box cradled in between her arms. "I have to say, for a place you spent nearly four years, your collection of 'stuff' is kind of sad, in an Oliver Twist, 'I want some more," kind of way."

"What can I say? I pack light," Raj admits with a shrug. "And besides, I was never exactly inspired to keep souvenirs of my time at work . . . at least not before you came along," he adds cheekily, before leaning down to kiss Mariana on the neck. "Ohhh, I'm going to miss doing that! Work at Speckulate is going to be way more productive, but insanely more boring, without the scent of your cupcake lotion and cherry lip gloss distracting me from doing anything remotely productive."

"And I'm going to miss your sexy voice giving me coding tips over morning coffee," Mariana coos sympathetically. "But honestly, this is going to be so much better! No more hiding! And you get to be on a team with Casey! She is seriously the smartest coder here! You guys are going to come up with such great ideas, working together, that you are both going to make partner here in no time! And, I for one am going to be super jealous when that happens!"

Raj can't help but smirk at this. "You are right. I would make an AMAZING Speckulate partner! But now, I can't work with you on your app, which is going to be truly groundbreaking."

Mariana shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, you can still help," she mutters underneath her breath. "Your input is just going to have to be a bit more . . . behind the scenes."

"I'll get to be a man of mystery," Raj responds, dipping Mariana backwards in a way that is equal parts debonair and dorky. "I could get used to that! Hey, your and Evan's first joint meeting with the investors is tomorrow right?"

Mariana sighs. "Yeah, it is. And I've been trying to meet with him all this week to rehearse and talk strategy, but I haven't seen or heard from him in days, and his assistant keeps blowing me off!"

If Mariana didn't know any better, she'd think Raj seems relieved at this frustrating turn of events in her life and career. "Eh, that's just how guys like Evan are," Raj explains. "They are egomaniacs and a control freaks. Don't be surprised if he totally hijacks the meeting and doesn't let you get a word in edgewise. Don't let that discourage you. Remember, both of your names are on that patent application."

Mariana considers this for a moment. "That's not the Evan I know at all. The control freak part is true, for sure. But I don't think he's an egomaniac. I mean, he suffers from severe anxiety. And an important meeting like this . . . well, I just worry about him, you know? It's exactly the kind of stressor that could trigger a severely anxious person over the edge?"

Raj groans deeply. "Mariana . . . just promise me that you'll be careful, OK? I mean, Evan . . . he's my boss and I admire him. He's brilliant absolutely. I just don't trust him. And I definitely don't trust him with you."

Mariana begins to protest, but Raj quickly interrupts her.

"I know what you are thinking," he offers. "and it's not because I'm jealous of his power, privilege and position. I just feel like guys with power, privilege, and position tend to feel like things are owed to them and take advantage of that . . . things like the affection and intelligence of a beautiful woman like you."

"Raj," Mariana insists solemnly, as she wraps her arms around her boyfriend's shoulders to look him in the eye. "I appreciate your concern, really. But I'm not quite as innocent as you'd like to see me. I've been around the block a few times, so to speak. I can handle a guy like Evan Speck. I've handled way worse. You just need to trust and believe in me. Can you do that?"

Raj grins, "You drive me crazy, Mariana. You make me want to beat my chest like Tarzan and protect you from the entire world, which . . . I KNOW, you don't need at all. I probably need your protection more. But I absolutely trust and believe in you, so much that it scares me sometimes."

Mariana smirks coyly at this, and places a chaste kiss on her boyfriend's cheek, as the pair drag his office boxes down the hall toward his new cubicle. "Well done!" She exclaims, as she offers Raj another kiss, this time one on the lips that is not so chaste. "That was most definitely the correct answer."

A few hours later, Mariana finds herself, outside Evan Speck's office, where she is, once again rudely rebuffed by his assistant. Mind you, the pair's meeting with the investors to discuss budgeting and logistical issues relating to her activism app is less than half a day away!

"Look, I understand you are just doing your job, and are probably under strict instructions not to let anyone in to see him," Mariana offers politely. "But it's extremely imperative that I get to see Ev . . . er, Mr. Speck, before this meeting. And if my calculations are correct, unless the man is a ninja, he hasn't left that office in well over 24 hours. Don't you think someone needs to go in there to make sure he's OK? I mean, what if he had a freak accident with the 3D printer, or worse, suffered a heart attack? Wouldn't the cops be questioning _you_ first, as to why no one bothered to verify his whereabouts?"

Evan's assistant gives Mariana a "don't patronize me" glare, before plastering a fake smile on her face as she presses the intercom to her boss' office. "Hello Mr. Speck," she says into the intercom, her voice oozing faux sweetness. "I know you said not to bother you under any circumstances. But Mariana Adams Foster is here again, and she was concerned you might have had a heart attack in your office, because that's apparently what she thinks happens to all people who are older than she is, when they are left alone for more than five minutes at a time."

The silence that follows on the other end of the line for a full two minutes is deafening. Mariana and Evan's assistant stare at one another with wide eyes.

"Mr. Speck?" The assistant says into the intercom again, her voice now thick with genuine concern. "Are you OK?"

"Ahhh . . .yes," Evan manages, though his breathing sounds shallow and his voice sounds strangled and strange. "Can you . . .um . . . send Mariana in please? And instruct her to lock the door behind her, so we aren't disturbed?"

The assistant's eyes narrow at this strange request, as she looks up with suspicion at Mariana, who has heard every word. "Mr. Speck will see you now," she offers icily.

With a mixture of smugness at having gotten her way, and concern for her boss' health and well-being, Mariana enters her boss' office, and promptly closes and locks the door behind her with more external bravado than she is feeling inside. Yet, when she finally has a chance to look around the office, Evan is nowhere to be found.

"Evan?" She calls out nervously, recalling quite a few horror films she's watched that began in precisely this way.

"Under here," chokes out the tech wunderkind, his voice sounding small and frightened.

It is in that moment that Mariana realizes that her multi-millionaire boss is currently curled up in a fetal position under his desk. He is also rocking back and forth, which is causing him to repeatedly bump his head against the metal gratings inside the cavernous space, which seems both destructive and painful. Slowly and carefully, so as not to alarm her boss, Mariana lowers herself to a kneeling position, so that she can better assess the situation at hand.

Evan's face looks deathly pale to the point of being almost green. His hair is mussed. His clothes are rumpled. A light sheen of sweat is streaked across his forehead cheeks and chest. His hands are clenched and clammy. His eyes and uncommonly long lashes appear to be brimming with barely held back tears. But despite all this, her boss appears to be shivering, as if he is suffering from a fever.

"Are you ill? Do you want me to call the staff doctor . . . or 911?" Mariana inquires gently, as she carefully, so as not to alarm Evan, reaches out to press the back of her hand against Evan's forehead to check for signs of elevated temperature.

His skin feels damp and cool to the touch.

"I'm not dying," Evan explains solemnly, through shallowed and frantic breath. "It feels like I am, but I'm not. It's taken me years, and a lot of time spent researching online, to figure that out. But I've finally learned to distinguish a myocardial infarction from this."

"A panic attack," Mariana responds softly, remembering a conversation they had about Evan's condition, while the two were at Gael's art show.

Evan nods, as he shutters his eyes tightly, a few stray tears escaping down his face. But at least he has stopped rocking against the desk. Mariana takes this as a small sign of improvement in his condition. It is then that she realizes that her hand is still pressed against his forehead, though he has made no motion, as of yet, to remove it. She removes it herself abruptly, then reconsiders and places that hand on Evan's left shoulder. It's a gesture she hopes is comforting, and not an overstepping of her position as his employee.

"What can I do to help?" Mariana inquires, wishing she had brought her phone with her, so that she could surreptitiously Google panic attack cures, while Evan wasn't looking. (Not that she would likely find anything he hadn't read before himself. But it would go a long way toward making her feel less helpless and awkward, as she kneels before him.)

"Um, well, if you aren't too busy . . . and you wouldn't mind staying here with me for just a bit. I think you actually _are_ helping. I seem to find your presence soothing somehow," Evan responds, his voice strengthening ever so slightly, though he is still speaking to her behind closed eyelids.

"Oh, sure, yeah . . . thanks, I guess," Mariana answers awkwardly, as she settles into a seated position next to Evan, their torsos touching ever so slightly beneath his desk.

"Which is odd, because I think it was actually your presence, or, rather the anticipation of your presence, that triggered this particular panic attack, in the first place," Evan adds without inflection.

"Wait . . . me? I caused your panic attack?" Mariana asks, in as measured a way as she can muster, trying to hide the hurt in her voice.

Mariana often has to remind herself (1) that Evan occasionally lacks a socially acceptable filter for his comments and observations; and (2) that he is not speaking out of a desire to be offensive, but rather out of a place of genuine honesty.

"Not you, per se. Rather, the fact that you would be present during the upcoming investors meeting. It's always just been the investors and me. And while those meetings have _always_ caused me a fair share of social anxiety, I've learned to manage it, mainly, by mentally preparing and rehearsing for the topics that will be discussed and pleasantries exchanged. But your being there . . . that's an outlier I can't entirely plan for. I don't know how I will react differently under your observant eye. And I've never exactly been known to deal well with change," Evan clarifies.

"So, you'd rather I not be there?" Mariana asks glumly, unable to prevent Raj's words about Evan potentially shutting her out of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to promote and defend her work from running through her head.

"No," Evan insists resolutely. "This is your brainchild. You absolutely deserve to be at that meeting. Not only will you be able to answer specific questions about the app design and coding that I cannot, you will also be able to speak about the app in a passionate manner that, as you may have noticed, is not my strongsuit. I truly believe that once the investors hear you speak about your app the way you pitched it to me, they will have no choice but to be entirely on board with it."

"OK . . . all right. That's great," Mariana says excitedly, a surge of relief flooding through her body. "So, let's practice for the meeting. We can run through everything I'm going to say, everything you are going to say, the investors' potential responses . . . it can be just like your regular meetings, except I'll be there, so you'll have to talk less. Because, in case you haven't noticed, I talk A LOT. You said I was the outlier to this process, and that made you uncomfortable. Well, let's work on making me just another predictable, boring, thing that you can expect from this meeting!"

"That's an excellent idea," Evan responds solemnly.

Her boss has opened his eyes now. Mariana notices that his breathing has returned to an almost normal rate. She can no longer feel the vibration of his heart pounding through his chest on her right shoulder blade.

"Thank you," Mariana responds, feeling the sudden urge to give her boss a hug, which she KNOWS is totally inappropriate.

"There's just one problem . . ." Evan continues.

"Which is . . ." Mariana presses cautiously.

"I haven't been able to leave this office, since that meeting was placed on my calendar," Evan admits. "Fortunately, I have a full bathroom and shower suite connected to this office, otherwise, I'd be entirely unhygienic by now."

Mariana tries in vain to get the image of Evan Speck's strangely-muscular-for-a-coder body, dew-glistened and towel wrapped mere feet from her own work desk, out of her brain. "Maybe you don't have to . . . leave the office I mean."

"Ever?" Evan inquires hopefully.

Mariana stifles a laugh at this. "No, I mean, absolutely, you are eventually going to have to leave this office. And, for sure, we are going to have to get you out from under this desk, preferably sooner rather than later. But maybe you don't have to leave this office to attend the investors' meeting with me."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," the tech guru admits.

"OK. We've established that, in this office, you feel comfortable with me here . . . that I keep you calm. But out in the investors meeting, my presence makes you nervous," Mariana begins.

"That's correct," admits Evan.

"And you have a Skype account, that staff members use occasionally to attend meetings remotely, like, say, when they are on a business trip, or there is inclement weather at their location . . ." Mariana prods.

"Also correct," responds Evan.

Mariana can see the wheels turning in Evan's weird genius brain, as she continues to explain.

"You also have green screen and Photoshop software that can mimic alternate locations . . . like say a beach or hotel location that can be used to make it LOOK like two individuals are on a business trip, when, in fact, they are just sitting in your office."

"You are suggesting we take the meeting from our office, but make it look like we are somewhere remote, so the investors don't find it strange that we aren't there in person," he posits.

"Bingo," says Mariana with a grin.

"That's brilliant, Mariana," Evan's head pops up so fast with excitement at this idea, it causes him to bang his head with rather great force on the top of his desk. "Oof!" He exclaims.

Instinctively, Mariana arches her body toward Evan's and presses her fingers firmly against the point of desk impact; absentmindedly, running her fingers through his hair, once she realizes he isn't bleeding. It is at this moment that Mariana and Evan truly lock gazes with one another for the first time since this whole under-the-desk fiasco began. _He truly has gorgeous eyes,_ she thinks to herself. _Way more gorgeous up close than I even imagined in my dreams . . . my sex dreams, which, come to think of it, started a lot like this . . ._

Mariana's breathing hitches, and she notices that Evan has stopped breathing entirely. They stay like that for a moment, limbs entangled, entranced by the other's sudden closeness. It is Mariana who finally manages to break the spell and pull away.

"Well . . . um," she fumbles, her voice sounding oddly breathless and husky. "I should go contact IT about getting the greenscreen equipment set up in here, so we can start practicing."

"Yes," Evan manages with a gulp. "Please do."

His cheeks, Mariana can't help but notice, are no longer pallid, but rather contain a subtle blush, one which is creeping down the sides of her boss' strong muscular neck. If the heat that Mariana feels on her own upper extremities is any indication, she's similarly red.

"I'll ah, meet you later to practice for the meeting then? Whatever time works for you?" Mariana inquires, her words sounding stilted and oddly formal to her ears, particularly in light of the heated (strangely erotic?) moment that just occurred between her and her boss, and the admittedly intense exchange that preceded it.

"Yup, I'll check my calendar and have my assistant set something up for . . . _us_ . . . later today," Evan responds, as he finally emerges from the underside of his desk.

"Great," Mariana responds way too loudly, nearly tripping over her own feet as she heads toward the door. "Ah, I'll see you then! Bye!"

"And Mariana . . ." Evan calls out after her.

Mariana turns on her heel to see Evan now standing tall and propped elegantly on the corner of his desk, as if the last thirty minutes never happened. "Yes, Evan?"

"Thank you . . . for everything. You really are becoming . . . _have become_ . . . indispensable to this team . . . and . . . _to me_."

Mariana smiles genuinely, taking a beat before responding. "Well, that's what team members do for one another, right? We help eachother get unstuck."


	4. Chapter 4

"So, I believe if we just decrease the font size in the chat screen by half a point, we'll have room to expand the size of the Group Shared Space in the center of the screen substantially. And this will allow us . . ." Evan postulates, as he makes the appropriate modifications to the source code of Mariana's app.

" . . . to add the Google Drive function that we were talking about to the preexisting virtual blackboard and video screen, so everyone involved in the chat could coordinate their tasks simultaneously, and see what each other is doing in real time!" Mariana chimes in excitedly, completing her bosses thought. "Evan, that's brilliant. I love it!"

Lately, Mariana is finding herself falling more and more in sync with Evan Speck, as the pair work to tweak, update, de-bug, and consistently improve her activism app. It is almost as if Evan's strange, quirky, Beautiful Mind has a magnetic field all its own. And Mariana's brain is being subconsciously drawn ever deeper into its orbit. The pair even occasionally eat and drink in sync, Mariana with her Cherry Coke Zero and Honey Mustard Pretzel sticks snack bag situated on the right side of the screen, and Evan with his green drink (which, smells like celery, but tastes like feet, at least according to Mariana) and Lightly Salted Pita Chips on the left side.

Feeling triumphant and giddy, Mariana raises her palm toward Evan to give him a high five. It is a gesture that causes Evan to frown, and look confused, in response. "Were you planning to hit me?" the Speckulate CEO inquires, his trademark baritone voice laced with apparent concern.

"Um . . .no . . . I just wanted to give you a high five?" Mariana responds.

_OK . . . so maybe the two of them aren't entirely in sync . . . at least not all the time. Evan is still Evan, after all._

"I mean, it's OK if you don't want to . . ." Mariana adds politely, wondering if she's crossed some heretofore invisible boss / subordinate boundaries with Evan about which she was clearly unaware.

"No, no, I want to! I want to very much! Let's high five on this new positive development in the app," Evan says decidedly, his face breaking into a slight grin, as he raises his palm awkwardly toward Mariana, and she slaps it, with decidedly less verve than she planned to originally. "That was nice," responds Evan, after the deed is done.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Very nice," Mariana responds with a smirk and stifled laugh, as the pair return to the matter at hand.

The ever-familiar buzz of Evan's intercom interrupts this exchange. "Mr. Speck," Evan's assistant, Emma's, familiar voice emits from his office phone speaker. "Your cousin is here . . . unannounced . . . _again_."

Mariana chuckles at this. She admits that she used to seriously dislike Evan's assistant, Emma, due to her seemingly slavish adherence to The Rules of Speckulate and outwardly cold demeanor. However, ever since Mariana helped cure Evan's panic attack, the two have gone from grudging acquaintances to somewhat friends.

They even bonded over Emma's admission that she actually has fraternal teenage twins . . . twins who, based on Emma's stories about them, seem to bear a striking similarity, in both personality and temperament, to Mariana and her own fraternal twin, Jesus. More than anything, Mariana and Emma both recognize in one another a shared affection for their boss Evan, and a desire to protect him at all costs. And that means that the two women are undeniably on the same team as one another.

"Please send him in, Emma," Evan responds into the intercom stoically.

"Um, I guess, I could come back later?" Mariana offers, knowing very little about Evan's family, and what is to be expected of her, in this instance.

"No need," Evan reassures his subordinate / colleague. "This won't take long. It never does."

When Evan's cousin, Marcus, enters the office, Mariana is not at all surprised to find him attractive, (he is related to Evan after all!) Looking to be in his mid-to-late 20's, Cousin Marcus bears all the marks of a privileged, arrogant frat boy, living off the wealth of someone else in his family (most likely, Evan), and utterly convinced that his family name will ensure that he marries someone equally rich and beautiful, and will, therefore, never have to work a true day in his life.

"Hello Marcus," Evan offers, without emotion, as his younger cousin settles into the "client chair' opposite his desk, and unceremoniously puts his feet up on it, causing the Speckulate CEO to wrinkle his nose in distaste. "How much money will you be needing today?"

Marcus scoffs at this, not even bothering to throw an embarrassed look in Mariana's direction, as she astutely analyzes the situation at hand, which is new to her, but clearly not to her boss, who has been down this road many times before.

"Jesus, Ev. I'm insulted. You think that's the only reason that I'd come visit my favorite cousin?"

"Needing money, is the only reason you have ever came to visit me . . . your _only _cousin . . . at this office during workday hours, in the past eight years, so yes," Evan responds dryly.

"Well, the wedding is already all paid for . . . by YOU, apparently. So, thanks for that. But that is actually NOT why I am here, Mr. Judgmental," Marcus insists, self-righteously. "I just want to confirm you aren't bringing a date to the wedding this weekend, because a peek at your socials (or lack, thereof) tells me that you clearly aren't. However, you did write "Maybe" on the RSVP response card. So, my lovely fiancée insisted on my checking, before she finalized the wedding seating chart."

Evan, red-cheeked, and clearly uncomfortable with this exchange, strategically chooses to focus on his laptop screen, rather than looking Marcus in the eye, as he responds. "I've been on a dating website, in an attempt to experiment with romance. Mariana has been helping me. But nothing has panned out yet, so . . ."

"So, you aren't dating anyone, obviously," Cousin Marcus interrupts rudely. "I told Karen that! I said, Karen, he's clearly lying. Evan is too weird to date. He doesn't like girls. This is a complete waste of time. But she insisted on my asking, because, apparently, she has some money-grubbing single friends that she wants to set you up with . . . ones who wouldn't care if your strange, or bad in bed, as long as your rich, which you clearly are. I don't think that's going to work, because you are basically hopeless with women. And I told her as much. But, hey, I'm going to tell her to have at it anyway. No reason to upset the new bride, right?" Cousin Marcus concludes haughtily with a chuckle, as he helps himself (without asking, mind you) to Mariana's pretzels, pulling a handful right out of the bag with his likely unwashed hands, and popping it in his mouth, before beginning to crunch on them noisily.

"You think I'm too weird to date . . ." Evan repeats glumly, as he sinks lower into his chair.

"You should back off!" Mariana responds without thinking . . . finishing his boss's sentence again, for the second time today, but, this time, not, at all, in a way that Evan Speck would have initially anticipated.

"Excuse me?" Cousin Marcus inquires, self-righteously. "What did you just say to me?"

"Mariana . . ." Evan attempts to intercede.

"I said, you should back off, and tell your fiancé to back off too, because Evan doesn't need to be set up with her, as you put it, 'money-grubbing', single friends, because he already has a girlfriend AND a date to your wedding. He's going with me!" Mariana concludes hotly, before she has a chance to really think about what she's just offered to do, or the consequences that will inevitably arise from it.

"You?! You are dating my cousin! Wow!" Cousin Marcus replies, not missing a beat. "Evan, is this true?"

"Well . . ." Evan begins.

Before her boss can respond, Mariana does two things. First, she takes a pita chip from Evan's snack bag, and shoves it in Evan's mouth to render him effectively speechless. Then, she begins running her fingers through Evan's hair affectionately, a gesture that she's learned, for better or worse, will distract her boss, and keep him from contradicting what she just said.

And it works! Evan's face, initially wide eyed and frantic, quickly takes on a dazed and happy expression, as his eyes dreamily wander toward Mariana's, all but forgetting Cousin Marcus is in the room entirely.

"It's true," Mariana responds resolutely in Evan's stead.

"Wow, Ev, color me impressed," Cousin Marcus replies obnoxiously. "Well, then, I guess I'll tell Karen to update the seating chart and tell her gold-digging friends to stand down! I'll see you at the wedding Cuz! Ooh, I almost forgot. The catering bill ended up being about $500 more than we anticipated, so I'm going to need a little extra cash by the end of the week. You know what, I'll just e-mail you the invoice when I get home. See you this weekend, Evan!"

And with that, Cousin Marcus exits the office, leaving a stunned, but still chewing, Evan staring after him.

"Mariana, did you just invite yourself to my Cousin Marcus' wedding?" Evan inquires, once his pita chip has been thoroughly chewed, and Mariana's hands have left his hair, bringing him back to his senses.

"No," Mariana insists. "I mean, technically, yes, but . . . I'm sorry! I just couldn't stand listening to him belittle you like that, especially when you are bankrolling his entire freaking wedding! And his fiancé has the nerve to try to set you up with . . . whatever! It's fine. You can just like . . . I don't know . . . tell them I came down with the stomach flu on the day of the event, or something. At least it will shut them up about your love life."

"You don't understand, Mariana. I'm not capable of lying. I never have been. And you obviously know that, because you did what you did to me just now with the food in my mouth, and your hands in my hair, knowing what effect it would have on me . . ."

Mariana blushes a bit at this, unable to help but imagine what exactly is going through Evan's Beautiful Mind, while her hands are in his hair that causes him to react in the way that he does. But, somehow, she manages to bring her attention back to the matter at hand. "Of course, you can lie, Evan. We just did it, this past week! You know, you and me, with the Board, and how we used the Skype session to make them think we were working on location instead of in your office, in order to resolve your panic attack."

"No, Mariana. YOU lied. I just stood there and answered questions about the app, as if everything was proceeding as usual," Evan argues.

"I lie of omission is still a lie," Mariana insists.

"An interesting philosophical argument, Mariana. But it makes no difference in this instance. When I'm at the wedding, and my cousin, or any of my family members, for that matter, ask where my beautiful date is, I will inevitably tell them that you lied and pretended to be my girlfriend out of pity. And Marcus will tease me way more than he would have, had I just shown up to the event alone."

"I don't pity you, Evan . . . it's just . . . I'm really sorry," Mariana responds guiltily.

"It's fine, Mariana. You were just trying to help. You are _always _just trying to help," Evan insists, as he turns his attention back to the computer screen.

"Trying and failing, most of the time, it seems," Mariana admits glumly.

To this, Evan does not respond, lies of omission, having never been his problem, Mariana recognizes sadly . . .

"You should have seen him, Raj. He just looked so depressed. It literally broke my heart," Mariana explains to her boyfriend, as the pair sit on Mariana's bed at the Coterie binge watching Euphoria on HBO On Demand using Mariana's laptop.

"It sucks to be bullied by your relatives. Trust me, I know!" Raj responds sympathetically. "But it sounds like this is between Evan and his cousin. And, Mariana, you just can't fix everyone's problems. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that"

"Maybe I can! At least . . . this particular problem," Mariana posits, as she puts the episode that the two of them are watching on pause.

"You aren't seriously asking me whether you could go to this wedding as Evan's date, Mariana," Raj argues. "Listen, I know you told me, I shouldn't be insecure about our relationship, and Evan specifically, despite your . . . _dreaming_ about him sexually. And I'm trying. I really am. But this is just _beyond_."

"Maybe you could go too . . . to the wedding, I mean," Mariana offers, keeping her eyes glued to the frozen screen on her laptop, so she doesn't have to look directly into Raj's.

"As Evan's _other _date? Like a throuple?" Raj inquires incredulously.

Mariana can't help but giggle at this. (Though she secretly wonders whether this line of questioning might somehow wind its way into her dreams this evening . . .) "No . . . I was thinking more like as a caterer."

"I'm not following," Raj replies, his brows narrowed in confusion.

"Look, I did some research and made some calls. Apparently, this is going to be the society wedding of the year, because it's being bankrolled by Evan, to whom, clearly, money is no object. So, it's going to be so much fun! And Jazmin's boyfriend, Zeke's company is apparently catering. And they are always short staffed. So, he could get you in, no problem!" Mariana explains excitedly.

"So, you want me to work, on my one day off, serving all these rich snobby people, while you dance with our filthy rich boss? Sounds like a blast!" Raj posits sarcastically, as he distances himself from Mariana on the bed.

"I want you to be there, because we never get to go out and do anything fancy together anymore, since we've both been so busy with Speckulate," Mariana offers, as she seductively tickles Raj in a spot right below his rib cage, which she knows drives him crazy. "I'll be in a fancy dress. You'll be in one of those sexy caterer suit and tie numbers. You can keep an eye on Evan, make sure he doesn't do anything untoward, which he WON'T. And every once in a while, when no one is looking, we can sneak into the kitchen, and . . ." instead of finishing her sentence, Mariana kisses Raj on the neck, and lightly nibbles his ear, allowing her boyfriend to complete her thought with his own dirty mind.

She can practically hear his heartbeat pick up in response, which tells her that victory is in her grasp.

"I have to admit that does sound really hot," Raj grudgingly relents. "But I don't know anything about catering."

"What's there to know? You carry a tray with hors d'oeuvres, clear some food off tables, make sure everyone's champagne glass stays filled. Get paid. Easy!" Mariana offers with a wink, as she rests her head on Raj's chest.

Raj groans. "I am so going to regret saying yes to this, aren't I?"

"But you'll do it?" Mariana replies excitedly.

"Yes, I'll do it," Raj responds.

"YAY!" Mariana cheers, pulling her boyfriend in for a hug. "Thank you! You are the best boyfriend ever! I'll call Zeke now! This is going to be sooooooo great!"


End file.
